


You Can't Run

by Ocearna



Series: Guns, Claws and Wolfsbane [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Confession, M/M, Mountain Ash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 20:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ocearna/pseuds/Ocearna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Stiles has a brilliant plan to force Derek to actually sit down and listen for once because god damn it they should have had this conversation six months ago. </p><p>Or: where Stiles uses mountain ash to confess. Derek is annoyed. And terrified.</p><p>Credit to banryeo and elisera (tumblr) for inspiration!</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can't Run

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a sketch done by tumblr user banryeo and the absolutely brilliant tags added by elisera. You can find it here: http://banryeo.tumblr.com/post/59309820934 (Go look, it's beautiful. Derek's blushing!) 
> 
> Unbeta'd and only roughly edited. I write when I'm stressing about exams but then I don't have time to edit. It's a thing.
> 
> EDIT 20/1/14: I just read over this again and oh god, the spelling! I really should learn not to post things without running them a spellchecker first. Hopefully I caught everything this time.

Derek should have realised something was wrong when everyone else disappeared.

They had been hanging out together, the whole pack, and watching movies as part of a ‘pack bonding night’ - as instigated by Lydia and Stiles a few months ago after a particularly nasty troll incident - when the others had started making their excuses to leave early. Only Scott stayed behind, lurking somewhere out near the edge of the forest where Derek could only just hear him from inside the renovated Hale house.

Later Derek would blame the spiked drinks Lydia had brought - Lydia and Stiles were a dangerous combination but the werewolf alcohol had at least been one of their less destructive projects - for not noticing the other substance Stiles had smuggled into the house.

“Derek?”

The werewolf glanced over to where Stiles - the only one still in the house apart from him - was being swallowed up by the squishy leather armchair he was settled in (and always stole, no matter who had it before he turned up).

“Yes Stiles?”

Stiles shot him a soft grin, snuggling further back into the couch. “Could you get me another drink?”

That gained an eyebrow raise. “You can’t get it yourself because...?”

Smirking now, Stiles pointedly shifted again. “And leave the perfection that is your sofa? No way. Please Derek?”

For someone who wasn’t even a werewolf Stiles was ridiculously good at puppy eyes. Derek sighed and pushed himself up out of his (admittedly quite comfortable) couch and started the walk to the kitchen. “Juice good, Stile--”

A familiar smell (forests and nature and ash and _fire_ ) invaded his nose and he whirled, already snarling, heart hammering, expecting hunters or another darach or some bloody evil monster of the-

Only to watch, dumfounded, as a ring of mountain ash settled around he and a now-standing Stiles, the last of it slowly drifting into place from Stiles having thrown a handful into the air.

“...Stiles?” Derek asked, voice hesitant. He was still crouched slightly - an instinctual response to any threat - but he could feel each of his muscles relaxing as he noted that no, Stiles was the only one currently in the room. A very sheepish, nervous looking Stiles.

“Stiles...” This time it came out as a growl. “What are you doing?”

Stiles tried to grin but it dissolved into a nervous chuckle half way. “Well, uh, I admit this probably wasn’t one of my best thought out ideas...”

 _“Stiles_.” Derek advanced, eyes gaining that glint they got just before they started full-on glowing. Stiles took a step back and went to take another but then he seemed to remember the mountain ash and held his ground instead.

“So,” Stiles started, hands twitching, “you know that talk you’ve been avoiding?”

Derek froze, then his brows furrowed and Stiles couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or confused. Probably both. “What talk?”

“Well,” Stiles drawled, “I mean, it wasn’t just you - I kinda didn’t really help either with the, y’know, avoiding the subject and all but, well. We really need to talk. It’s gotten to the point where Scot is complaining - _Scott!_ The nice one! The one who’s put up with all my weird shit since--”

“ _Stiles!”_

Derek was trying to hang on to his ‘big bad wolf’ act but Stiles could see it crumbling. There was no way he didn’t know what this was about.

“Let me out of this bloody circle--”

“Oh, no.” Suddenly Stiles was up close, hands pushing on Derek’s shoulders to make him sit. Partly out of shock and partly out of something he didn’t want to name, Derek acquiesced. Stiles followed his down but kept one hand on the werewolf’s shoulder as they both sat as a reminder.

“No, you are not getting out of this.” Stiles was almost frowning, his usual joviality gone and replaced by seriousness and steel-like determination. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to organise this? You should have seen Deaton when I asked for some mountain ash! He wanted to know exactly what and why and--”

“Stiles just _spit it out!”_

 _“_ We should get together!”

Silence stretched between them for almost a full minute as Derek stared at Stiles and Stiles sat there with his mouth hanging open - that was not what he had meant to say next.

Eventually Derek growled - though it lacked its usual bite - and moved to stand. “Enough. Let me out.”

“No.” When Derek looked up, Stiles’ gaze was sharp and his back straight. He held Derek’s gaze even as he pushed down on his shoulders again. “ _No_. God _damn_ it Derek we need to have this conversation and I will bloody well keep you here until you listen to me because we have been avoiding this talk for the last six months and honestly it’s starting to- no, it _got_ ridiculous a _long_ time ago.”

Derek huffs but he settles back down, one hand pressed to his forehead as if to ward off a headache. But he doesn’t say anything and he doesn’t try to leave again so Stiles takes it as permission to continue.

“We spend so much time with each other that everyone we meet thinks we’re _together_. My _dad_ thinks we’re together - no matter what I say to try to convince him otherwise! - and even the freaking Senior Council of the North American Werewolf Association keep referring to me as your _mate_ in official documents. You fall asleep on me on the couch - which you don’t do to anyone else because apparently that freaks out your _instincts_ \- and I’m the only one who can wake you up after a full moon and not risk getting their face carved off.

“I know all your favourite foods; I even know some of the recipes off-by-heart.  I know how to fold your clothes and where you keep your keys and even which soap you like! And you know what? I want to know more. I want to know what it’s like to kiss you. I want to know what it’s like to fuck you and be fucked by you and I want to wake up next to you in the morning so the first thing I see is you.

“I want you Derek. I want you - just you - and I won’t give up. You can’t run forever, Derek, and I will _never_ give up. _Ever.”_

Stiles stops, cheeks red but expression fierce, and he almost has to pinch himself when he realises Derek is hiding his face behind his hands even though it’s doing very little to hide the fact that he is _blushing_.  “...Derek...” Stiles murmurs. He realises that in his flailing he had removed his hand from Derek’s shoulder so he goes to put it back. But then Derek flinches, shying away from the touch, and Stiles’ hand jerks back.

It takes a second but Stiles’ brain is already off running and his face crumples. “I’m sorry. Did I - Sorry, I shouldn’t have--” and he draws back, crouching to stand but then--

Suddenly Derek is on him, growling deep in his throat and fucking _licking into Stiles’ mouth_ and Stiles moans because fuck, this is better than he imagined.

They eventually break for air, Stiles panting like he had just run a marathon and Derek honestly not much better off, and they both just sit there and grin stupidly at each other for a minute.

Then Stiles gets a mischievous glint in his eyes and he starts prowling forwards, for once graceful in his movements. “So, Derek...”

Derek feels his stomach clench because bad things always happen when Stiles gets that look so he starts backing up, matching Stiles’ pace, until his back sparks against a barrier and he remembers the mountain ash.

“Stiles, could you--”

“Nope.” Stiles’ grin grew. “I kinda like you not being able to run away.”

Derek shivers - that grin foreshadows pure _evil_ \- and starts glancing around, hoping to see a way out. That’s when he hears barely-audible laughter ringing from outside and he remembers Scott - who, now that he thinks about it, probably stayed behind to ensure Derek didn’t get too... pissed and hurt Stiles.

“ _Scott!”_ Stiles looks momentarily startled by Derek’s yell. “Stop laughing and help me!”

Stiles’ grin doubled (if that was even possible at that stage). “Oh, Scott won’t help you. We made a deal, right, Scott?” His voice raises on the last few words and Derek’s heart stutters when Scott yells back an affirmative as well as a softer, “Good luck.”

Derek turns back to Stiles, eyes narrowed as he watches his - boyfriend? Is that what they are now? - slowly close the gap between them until Stiles is practically perched in his lap.

“Now,” Stiles mutters, hand coming up to sink into Derek’s hair. “I believe we were kissing?”

Derek won’t admit it, but he was equal parts terrified and absolutely elated when their lips finally touched.


End file.
